The wine of friendship
by Arianna Scribbler
Summary: Grantaire is loud and deliberately abrasive, the kind of person who thrusts all his worst qualities forward and hides his good points as much as possible. He's frustrating and heartbreaking to be around, someone you can't decide if you want to hug or shake or both. [Modern AU, character study]


Author's note: Yes, the lack of Enjolras is deliberate. I'm aware that it's something of a pivotal part of R's character, but I wanted to look at the other aspects, since those tend to be ignored more. The choice to make this modern was mostly just me being lazy with props.

* * *

He carries a sketchbook with him everywhere, tucked under an arm or in his satchel, pencils stuffed into his pockets or behind his ears or in the bottom of his bag where no one will ever find them. He pulls it out whenever inspiration strikes, stopping in his tracks to scribble furiously. Inspiration, it seems, is quite fond of striking in the middle of a busy street, which makes going out with him something of a dangerous activity. He shows his sketchbooks to no one. Bossuet's seen glimpses of a few pages on accident and once a very drunk Courfeyrac stole a nearly complete one and started flipping through it. He managed to get through three pages or so before it was confiscated by a furious and beat-red Grantaire. The artist got drunker than any of them had ever seen that night and didn't speak to Courfeyrac for three days. Courfeyrac, in his turn, never spoke a word of what he had seen.

Grantaire takes commissions occasionally, accepting ludicrous sums of money to paint pets or flowers or grandchildren. The running commentary that invariably accompanies him is free of charge and stuffed full of puns and classical allusions and, according to Prouvaire, as many insults as he thinks he can get away with. Prouvaire goes with him occasionally, either as moral support or as a model, and generally ends up being designated driver and audience as Grantaire lets off steam on the way back. He tends to get very drunk the night he's finished a commission, ranting about the idiocies of materialism until he passes out on the table. Bossuet once got him to admit that being around the very rich makes him think of his parents; none of them have ever heard more about his childhood than that.

Bossuet's his best friend, though he's not Bossuet's. It's a distinction neither of them mention but one they're both quietly aware exists. They're drinking buddies and conversation partners and allies in the war against gravity. Joly makes up their third, with Courfeyrac or Bahorel as guests of honor, and together they provide a bubble of good cheer to counteract the revolutionary solemnity that so often envelops the group. When Grantaire's in a good mood he shines in his own right, holding a court where status comes from puns and appropriately clever references. He buys food and drink for everyone and laughs long into the night. When he's deep in his despair Bossuet takes over, plying him with drink and company for as long as he'll permit it or until he passes out. It's Bossuet who gets him home on these nights, Joly hovering in the background or helping to carry him depending on what's needed.

When he's drunk Grantaire moves with a kind of clumsy grace, more the possibility of grace than the quality itself. Bahorel attests to his skill in the kickboxing arena, and he can be deft on the dance floor when he chooses. Bossuet thinks he could move as lightly as Prouvaire if he were ever sober enough to try. None of them have ever seen him entirely sober. He speaks with the careless freedom of one who has always been rich enough to get out of trouble, vowels crisp even when drunk or sarcastic. His education he treats casually, tossing off mentions to books read and places traveled without a second thought. He collects books haphazardly and distributes them to his friends, his careless generosity convincing even Feuilly to accept the gifts. It takes Bossuet a while to catch on to the fact that every single book he gives away is tailored to the recipient.

Around the student cafes he's nearly as well known as Bahorel. He treats everyone, rich or poor, with half-condescending disdain that mostly manages to be more endearing than not. He believes in nothing, including class barriers and geographic divisions, and so he wanders where he will and talks to whomever he pleases. Many a would-be thief has stumbled away from an encounter with him having learned that drunk does not necessarily mean defenseless. He has many acquaintances and few friends. The fact that he would do anything for them is something of an open secret; that they would return the favor in an instant is clear to everyone but him.

The first time he went home with Bossuet instead of back to his own apartment it was mostly an accident, a series of mishaps and misunderstandings that really could only happen to Bossuet. He ended up staying the night, charming Musichetta despite her misgivings and handling Joly's idiosyncrasies with ease. He crashed on their couch, sleeping so deeply that Joly was convinced that he'd slipped into an alcohol-induced coma. Later, he admitted that it was the best he'd slept in weeks and they all carefully refrained from going deeper into the subject than that.

Dinner at their place becomes a regular occurrence, particularly when Musichetta finds out that, left to his own devices, Grantaire survives on take-out and frozen pizza and cigarettes. He doesn't deny any of it when she calls him on it, though he does insist on chipping in for groceries. As it turns out, he can cook, and do it well, it's just that he doesn't see the point of putting in the effort. The first time he takes over for Musichetta so that she can look after her boys he produces the best chicken soup they've ever tasted, and she jokingly threatens to make him cook every night. She takes it back when she finds out that, good cook or not, he can't do dishes worth anything.

His torso and back are covered with tattoos and they're spilling onto his arms and shoulders, a hodgepodge of cartoon characters and abstract shapes and animals that somehow resolve into a cohesive whole. None of them are his own design; Grantaire's got no faith in his own talent no matter how much money people are willing to pay him to exercise it. Each tattoo has half a dozen origin stories, all more fanciful than the last; people who know him suspect that he got all of them on a whim and only later came up with explanations. The quadratic formula sits prominently on his right forearm, the only visible tattoo he has. There's definitely a story there, one that's probably not happy given the way he scowls each time he sees it, but no one's managed to get him to tell it.

He likes to talk philosophy and politics, though he won't admit to it, and he can hold an entire conversation solely in internet memes. He mixes high- and low-brow culture with the determination of someone who sat through five and a half semesters of art school and learned the rules exclusively to break every single one of them. He and Combeferre argue near-constantly, getting into philosophical debates filled with obscure references and complicated theoretical models. Combeferre is at his most cutting when arguing with Grantaire, and Grantaire responds by being as flippant and disillusioned as possible. Watching them argue is like watching a professional-level verbal tennis match, one that leaves them both bright-eyed and satiated.

He's unreliable and purposefully difficult, so determined that no one will ever like him that he does his best to push everyone away before they can leave. Bossuet deals with his moods with the same unflappable good cheer he applies to everything else, while most people just put up with his bad qualities and avoid him when he's being particularly impossible. Everyone knows he could have a leadership position in the group if he wanted it, and so he goes out of his way to prove that he would be the worst person to hold it. When he's not paying attention his natural charisma comes out, effectively disproving everything he consciously tries to convey about himself. It's not enough to make him dependable, just enough to make it clear that he's unreliable by choice rather than by temperament. Prouvaire, an artist in his own right if in a different medium, appreciates the performance involved, and the others just shrug and don't try to talk him out of it. Grantaire can sulk like a champion when he feels like it, and it's easier to take what he says at face value than try and convince him to drop the act. Only Musichetta refuses to acknowledge his chosen role in social situations and sends him on errands with the same brisk attitude she uses on everyone. He makes a point of carrying out her instructions exactly while still undermining the purpose of the excursion; she makes him do chores as punishment, which is how everyone learns that cooking really is his only domestic skill. He doesn't quite rival Bossuet when it comes to disasters created with only a duster and step-stool, but he certainly doesn't get much clean either.

For Christmas he gets everyone books except Musichetta, whom he presents with a full-color painting of her and her boys, though he insists that she open it after he's left. He refrains from going on drunken rants about how Christmas is a hollow holiday created by parents who felt guilty about not paying attention to their kids the rest of the year, though he does spend much of the evening alternating between needling Combeferre through text message and providing running commentary on the Christmas specials that Prouvaire makes them all watch. Bossuet insists that he stay with them overnight, ignoring all Grantaire's protests about family time and not intruding until he has to give in. He makes them all hot chocolate in the morning in thanks; he spikes his cup with leftover whiskey and dares Musichetta to object. She only rolls her eyes and keeps quiet.

Grantaire is loud and deliberately abrasive, the kind of person who thrusts all his worst qualities forward and hides his good points as much as possible. He's frustrating and heartbreaking to be around, someone you can't decide if you want to hug or shake or both. But he's a friend, and a good person, and when it comes down to it the only person who dislikes Grantaire is Grantaire himself.


End file.
